


What These Ithacas Mean

by compo67



Series: Punzel Verse [13]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Children, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family, Family Feels, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Motherhood, Parenthood, Poetry, Post Mpreg, Protective Jared, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is having a good day--even when the kids won't leave him alone in the bathroom--until a trip to the park proves otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What These Ithacas Mean

**Author's Note:**

> "Ithaca" by Cavafy while you read. <3

Being in the bathroom does not guarantee alone time.

In fact, it usually guarantees that someone will walk in and make themselves comfortable no matter what Jared might be doing in the bathroom. He’ll be in the shower some mornings and Jensen will rush in to use the sink, despite knowing that when he does, it causes the shower water to go cold. There have been more than a few instances when Misha has burst in, either with Jensen or on his own, asking Jared where his briefcase is and what they should make for dinner. Jeff, surprisingly, has never once interrupted Jared in the bathroom, since his stance on the matter is firm: bathrooms are where beauty happens, beauty can never be interrupted.

If only Jeff could persuade the five other people in their household that bathroom time is mommy time.

This morning, the kids have been on an endless parade.

Just as Jared was about to step into the shower, Bailey made his appearance, a crying and screaming catastrophe in overalls. Jared wrapped a towel around himself and ran to the scene of the crisis: Kaylee was hogging the crayons.

Normally, Jared wouldn’t leave three four year olds alone with crayons, but he skipped a shower yesterday because he woke up five minutes before his shift started. Therefore, if crayons were what it took to convince the kids to stay still for ten minutes, then Jared was willing to sacrifice the walls.

The Great Crayon Fight was quelled with minimal tears; Jared distracted Kaylee with an offer to play with a tiara instead. Bailey sat down at the play table, triumphant and sniffling a thank you to Jared, and resumed his picture. Before Jared left the room, Bailey explained his drawing: this was daddy, this was papa, and this was a shark they were fighting that would eat them up.

“That’s… great,” Jared said, a little concerned. “You know, honey, sharks don’t eat people that often.”

“ _This_ shark does.”

“Oh.”

“Daddy is gonna cut it open from the inside.”

“Well… okay then. I’m gonna go take my shower really, really fast, okay?” Jared brushes Bailey’s bangs out of his eyes and fixes one of Hailey’s pigtails. “I’m gonna be so fast, whatever you guys need, I’ll be right out to do. So just wait for me here and we can start today.”

Jared sprints back to the bathroom. He starts the water again and actually manages to get into the shower and under the water. He closes his eyes and sighs, tilting his head back, letting his shoulders slump.

Shampoo meets his hair when the shower curtain is tugged and pulled back.

“Kaylee!” Jared reaches for the curtain but it’s no use.

“Hailey took my tiara, mommy! Mommy, you hafta tell her—it’s not fair! It’s not fair, it’s mine!”

During this tirade, Jared has managed to wrap half of the shower curtain around himself. He argued for the installation of shower doors; Jensen kept saying he’d get around to it last summer.

“Kay, I’m in the shower, this has to wait.”

Unfortunately, Kaylee is adamant. She hangs off of the curtain and a tantrum begins. Her face scrunches up, her mouth opens, and a scream that rattles Jared’s ear drums sounds out. By the time Jared climbs back out of the shower, wraps himself back into the same towel, and reaches the kids’ room _again_ , Bailey and Hailey are chasing each other around the room. Bailey is trying to win the tiara back for Kaylee, because they are now allies, and Hailey is intent on ruling the room today.

“Everybody freeze!” Jared says in his grown up voice, standing in the middle of the room.

All three of his children freeze on the spot.

Jared breathes out. He presses a hand to his forehead and sighs. Okay. He can do this.

“Hailey Hannah,” he begins, kneeling down to his middle child. “I want you to give your sister back the tiara. She was playing with it first. You need to wait your turn, please.”

The girls are identical twins, but Jared and Misha can always tell them apart. Hailey’s pout is a little more pronounced than Kaylee’s. Her brow furrows in the displeasure of being told to share.

“I wanna play with it, mommy.”

“I know, baby.”

“She got to play with it all day yesterday and papa said it looks beautiful on _me_.”

“But I wanna wear it too!” Kaylee shouts out from her place, where she is still focused on being frozen. Bailey is also following mommy’s commands, but Jared can tell that he won’t last much longer.

“I’m talking to Hailey, Kay, give me a minute. Look, Hailey, it _does_ look beautiful on you. It looks beautiful on Kaylee too. And she wants to play with it. Let’s give Kay some time being beautiful and then you can have a turn.”

Hailey looks at her sister over Jared’s shoulder.

Eventually, Jared has all three kids sitting at their play table. Jared hands Hailey Miss Bun, which Jensen fixed a barrette on last summer, and that seems to soothe her a little more.

A minute later, Jared is in the shower, scrubbing furiously at his hair. He breaks a record for fastest shower and is still damp in his clothes by the time he leaves the bathroom entirely. His hair hangs in wet strings, not having much time to dry it, and he checks on the kids once before going downstairs to make mid-morning snacks and have breakfast.

The kids eat breakfast and get dressed before all the adults leave in the morning, so that Jared isn’t overwhelmed with it all on his own. Today, Mimi and Papa were in charge of outfits while Jensen made breakfast.

Popping open the microwave, Jared’s morning brightens.

A note waits with a plate of eggs and bacon.

_Don’t forget to eat, tall man. See you at lunch. –JA_

Simple as the man who wrote it; the note makes Jared smile. He tucks it into his back pocket. He thinks that’s it—and for what it is, it works. As the food heats up, Jared moves around the kitchen, throwing together a quick snack for the little butts.

He promised the kids a trip to the park today. Eating on the go is not ideal with triplets, especially when Jared is the only adult. They can go to the park after this snack and come back in time for Jensen to arrive home on his break.

As he plates an assortment of veggies and fruit onto one, large, rainbow plate, scooping yogurt into the middle, Jared hopes that the kids will tire themselves out. Hopefully, the trip will be enough for everyone to sleep all the way through one nap time.

An announcement of snack time creates the thump of three pairs of little feet. It’s late January, still cool enough for most of their family to wear socks. Jared waits for the kids at the bottom of the stairs, picking up Bailey and fixing one of his socks. He chose to wear one orange and one pink one today. Mimi let him. Life is too short, Misha believes, to worry about matching socks.

Before Jared puts Bailey down so he can join his sisters, he presses a kiss to Bailey’s cheek.

Wiggling, Bailey laughs and gets away, avoiding more kisses before the snacks are gone.

The kids climb onto chairs in the kitchen and descend upon the spread. Jared doesn’t want to imagine them as teenagers. He can’t see them as any older than they are. And when it happens, as it inevitably does, he’s genuinely surprised. How does he have three children who are walking and talking and asking questions? Didn’t he, didn’t they all, just yesterday have three babies swaddled and sleeping in cribs?

Resisting the urge to reminisce and sink into a mood, Jared retrieves his breakfast from the microwave. He sets his plate down on the table at his seat—mommy’s seat, as it’s known—and goes to the fridge. If he’s lucky, there’s still some herbal iced tea left that Linda bought him for Christmas. He started drinking the stuff while he was still nursing. He craved iced tea but couldn’t tolerate the caffeine.

The tea is best in the summer, when Jensen cuts up pieces of fruit and tosses them in to make a drink somewhat like sangria. Soon enough, it’ll be beach time.

“We going to the park today, mommy?” Hailey asks, crunching on a carrot.

“Yep, soon as we are finished eating.”

Jared fishes out his tea. He’s wearing his standard outfit for staying home—jeans and a v-neck shirt. He grabbed the first shirt he could find after his attempt at showering, and it turned out to be one of Jensen’s. It’s a little tight in the shoulders, and rides up whenever he moves around, but these things can be ignored. The shirt smells like Jensen.

As the kids chirp on about what they hope to do at the park—everything from being on the swing set to terrorizing other children—Jared pours himself a glass of tea.

As he puts the pitcher back into the fridge, he notices something yellow sticking on the side of it.

He’s about to ask the kids who put this in the fridge because they had this discussion last week, when Jared found a swarm of drawings stuffed into the fridge and in every bed. However, he sees that there is actual handwriting on the post-it.

Peeling it off, Jared reads it sitting down.

His food is lukewarm, but he hasn’t had a hot meal at home in years so that’s just a minor detail.

This handwriting is different from the note in the microwave. That note was made spontaneously, on the fly. This one is neater. The script is elegant and practiced; this is exactly how Jared pictures handwriting used to look, back when people sent each other letters.

For two minutes, Jared sinks into the lines as he would into a bubble bath.

_As you set out for Ithaca,_

_hope the voyage is a long one,_

_full of adventure, full of discovery._

Jared sighs, smiling again.

Now, his food is stone cold. He has to inhale it in, because the kids are finished with their food and therefore ready to set out for the park, whether mommy follows or not. Jared scrambles to catch up faster than eggs.

The note is tucked away, joining the first one in his back pocket.

“Kay! Kay, we are not taking _all_ the toys to the park!”

 

The park is a fifteen minute walk away from their home. Well, it’s a fifteen minute walk for Jared, who actually walks. The kids get to ride. Mommy pushes a stroller filled to the brim with three four year olds and all the equipment needed for an hour or two at the park for those four year olds.

Stroller pushing should be an Olympic event.

Jared shudders at the thought of quintuplets. Maybe, he thinks to himself as he parks the stroller next to his favorite bench by the swings, he could handle quads. If someone tossed in one more baby, would he really notice? Not likely. But two _more_ kids? Five children all at once?

“Mommy, will you push us?” Bailey.

“I wanna be on the slide!” Kaylee.

“My shoe… mommy, there’s a carrot in my shoe.” Hailey.

One by one, Jared sweeps in, mommy to the rescue to each child’s need. He straps Bailey into the smaller swings and compromises with the girls—ten minutes of swings and then they can all go down the slide. The park is well-kept, and for the moment, they have it all to themselves. But when Jared is by himself, he keeps the kids closer to him.

This is why the stroller is still necessary. He only has two hands. The kids aren’t big enough not to break away from their siblings if they’re walking.

For having little legs, these kids move fast.

Half an hour in on their trip and the kids have changed focus to playing in the sand box. Jared unpacks toys for them and settles in his place on the bench.

One deep breath and he leans back.

A book he keeps in the stroller is pulled out. It’s time for some adult words and concepts. Once a month, Jared walks over to downtown Santa Monica and spends a few hours in the used bookstore there. Eddie, the owner, gives Jared one free book a month. It’s his way of saying—thanks for having three kids who love to read and grandmothers who buy the latest books. Jared doesn’t protest. He takes his time picking out his book every time. This month, he decided to go with _Death by Black Hole_ by Neil deGrasse Tyson.

Over the soft, black cover, Jared finds a yellow post-it.

He looks up to the kids, sees that no one has broken out into a fight, and reads the next few foundlings.

Blue ballpoint pen is used this time. However, the same script stretches out on the yellow square.

_Hope your road is a long one._

_May there be many summer mornings when,_

_with what pleasure, what joy,_

_you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time:_

_may you stop at Phoenician trading stations_

_to buy fine things,_

_mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,_

_sensual perfume of every kind—_

_as many sensual perfumes as you can;_

_and may you visit many Egyptian cities_

_to learn and go on learning from their scholars._

How Jensen has managed to fit all of this on one post-it, Jared doesn’t know. What he does know is that there’s more. There has to be. It doesn’t feel right to end the poem there. While the kids chase each other around the sandbox, Jared flips through the rest of the book. He holds it upside down and shakes it, hoping that another post-it flutters out.

Where else could they be?

He checks inside the stroller. In the bag of spare clothes and supplies.

During this mad search, Jared doesn’t immediately register the mother and child that walks up to the park. He knows they’re there, in the back of his head, because he doesn’t clock them as any potential threat, but he barely notices it when she sits down on the same bench.

“Lose something?” she asks.

Flinching, Jared breathes out. “Oh, sorry, you startled me.” He zips up the supply bag and turns to make eye contact with her.

There are about six families with kids around the trio’s age within walking distance of their house. Jared knows most of the parents; he’s more familiar with the kids. He knows which kid his kids don’t like and which house he prefers them to be at for play dates.

But he doesn’t know this mother, or her child. She’s young, about Jared’s age, which is rare.

“I thought it was you,” she says, smiling wide. “Trevor, go play with them. You don’t mind, do you?”

Confused, Jared blurts out an answer that no, he doesn’t, but it’s best to introduce everyone and smooth things over. The trio doesn’t always take well to new friends.

Hailey offers the use of her pail to Trevor, who reports to everyone that he’s three years old. Kaylee is mollified by being older than this newcomer, so she begins to tell him to dig there. Softly, Jared reminds Kay that they are all there to play together. Bailey helps Trevor out. Chaos is kept at bay for the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says when he gets back to the bench. “Do I know you?”

This woman looks local. She doesn’t have the appearance of someone who is new to the neighborhood. But she looks just like any of the other moms Jared has run into or gotten to know: carefully manicured nails, not a hair out of place, and designer, but simple, clothes. She’s in jeans, but Jared knows her jeans are not at all coated in yogurt or juice.

How do people manage to parent and look like this? Jared has a theory: they are robots.

“It’s just so good to see you!” She has a Coach purse on her. Where are all her spare clothes? Toys? Books to read while her kid roams the world of the sandbox? “I’m Natalie Young, remember me? Well, now I’m Natalie Chris.”

And there it is—the big reveal of a diamond big enough to sink its owner.

Jared squints at Natalie. He searches his memory.

She laughs.

“High school,” he gasps.

“Yes! It’s so good to see you!”

“…what… what are you doing _here_?”

“Oh, sugar, you can’t expect everyone back home to stay there! California is wonderful. My hubby was working out of Los Angeles and got transferred out here three months ago. How are _you_?! You know, I thought I recognized you walking over here. I’m so glad I was right!”

Jared is stunned.

His past is staring at him, holding a Coach purse, wearing a diamond the size of a whole walnut.

Who knew his past would have such an irritating laugh?

The first thing he can think of to say in response is, “I… I have kids.”

Dumbfounded, he vaguely points to the cluster of children in the sandbox. Miracles have happened in these few moments because all four kids are getting along. For a brief moment, Jared wishes there was a fight to break up just so he could escape this moment.

“Triplets,” Natalie comments, her eyes wide. “That’s a handful and a half!”

“Oh yeah,” Jared laughs nervously.

“Guess daddy was _really_ workin’ hard that night, huh?”

“…sure.”

“Are they…” she leans in close, “…natural?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you know, did you have them like that octo-mom did? Insemination and all that?”

There have been questions and then there have been _questions_. Jared blinks once, twice, and wishes that one of the other adults in their family would appear and take over this situation before he hurts Natalie Young… or whatever her name is now.

High school does not hold warm and fuzzy feelings for Jared.

Nothing about Texas truly does, except for the parts where he was with his brother or by himself. And even those memories are few and far between. The older Tristan got, the less interested he was in hanging around his twin. Twins didn’t happen very often in their county; when they were seen together, side by side, they were often stared at. How does one avoid that? By staying the fuck away from your twin and banging every willing girl in a thirty mile radius.

Those were lonely, dusty years.

He hasn’t spoken to or heard from his twin in four years.

The obstacles and hardships he faced once he arrived in Anaheim were more welcome to him than everything he left back in Texas.

Even giving up the babies was better in Anaheim than it ever would have been in Texas.

It gives Jared nightmares from time to time when he thinks of what could have happened had he stayed. The millions of possibilities and what-ifs frighten him. One small change in the thread of things and he would not be here, exhausted but fulfilled.

He wouldn’t be here, searching for post-it notes from a man the kids call daddy.

“You were Prom Queen,” Jared hears himself say, “and you tripped on your dress. Fell right on your nose in front of the entire dance hall.”

Color drains from Natalie’s face.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Jared tucks his book back into the stroller, pocketing the post-it. “I thought we were having inappropriate conversation time.” Before she can snap, he stands up. “If you wanna report back to the people who laughed at you when you fell and who basically made my life a living hell, you can tell ‘em that Jared Padalecki is one, big, flaming homosexual living in sin with three other men and their three kids.”

It’s time to go. He walks over to the kids, hands shoved in his pockets, and announces the unhappy news.

What sucks about this is that the trio seems to genuinely like Trevor. Bailey gives the newcomer a kiss on the cheek and the girls wave goodbye.

“Is daddy gonna be home?” Bailey.

“Can daddy take us to the park tomorrow?” Kaylee.

“Mommy, can we have sketti and nuggets for dinner?” Hailey.

Loading everyone into the stroller is an art. Jared pushes the stroller out towards the sidewalk, away from the bench, and gets all three kids ready to go. Answers to questions from three sources are given flatly.

Who is there for mommy when mommy wants to cry?

Pushing the stroller forward, Jared takes a few shaky steps.

If Natalie had bothered to be a decent person, she’d have remembered that Jared had one friend in high school. He’s not a person that Jared thinks about very often, but he’s still a tender subject. Jared hasn’t been able to forgive Milo completely. He isn’t exactly sure how to resolve this in his mind and in his heart. Without Milo, the three talking, laughing, squealing kids in the stroller wouldn’t be.

And Jared knows that all parents say this, but he feels it every time he looks at his kids: they’re going to change the world.

But it’s there still—that crack in him.

How awful that motel room was. How dirty and bleak. It hurt so much because neither one of them knew what was going on. Jared didn’t feel the condom break, but Jensen explained it to him once—the person on top usually does. So what happened? How could he not have noticed? And if he had noticed, why hadn’t he stopped? Because he knew—they both knew—that Milo’s time was short and this was it.

First and last time. First and last.

“Chim Chim Cher-ee” sounds out from the top of the stroller.

Frustrated, Jared wipes away at a tear and answers.

“Jen.”

“What’s wrong?”

A good way from the park now, Jared stops and covers his face with one hand, holding the phone to his ear with the other.

“What… what made you think something’s wrong?”

“I had a feeling. Where are you? What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just talked to someone.”

“Was it Tristan?”

“No. Why’d you say that?”

“…uh, because I just saw him at Freddy’s on my way back from Matilda’s.”

“…”

“I thought it was weird to see you in a bar at eleven thirty in the morning.”

“…”

“Jared? Hey, you’re freaking me out. Where are you?”

“Punzel,” Jared breaths out, his hands shaking, “Park. I need you here.”

“I’m on my way.”

 

Daddy drives up and saves the day.

Daddy is strong; he can hold all three kids at the same time, two in his arms and one on his back. He is really smart, too, because he knows the opposites to everything and how to draw people really good. He’s also great, because he can make lunch exactly how everyone likes it: no crusts for Bailey, extra peanut butter for his peanut Kaylee, and grape jam instead of strawberry for Hailey. Daddies have to remember a lot; he doesn’t forget carrots or juice with lunch either.

He even reads good, right before naptime.

And he lies down in bed with everyone, until all eyes are closed and the room is completely calm.

When he’s done being daddy for the moment—hopefully for a full hour without interruption—he calls work and speaks with his boss, who is really nice and lets him stay home the rest of the day. Another call is made, this one to grandma, wondering if she and Grandma Linda would like to babysit tonight.

After all of that, daddy crawls into bed with mommy.

Mommy hasn’t stopped crying and doesn’t stop, even when daddy places gentle hands on either side of his face, wiping away tears one by one.

A stretch of time passes, with no words between them, and mommy starts to breathe again.

Jensen smells like flowers, fresh cut grass, and strawberry jam.

His voice is a smooth rumble. Each word is West Coast melodic.

“Keep Ithaca always in your mind. Arriving there is what you’re destined for. But don’t hurry the journey at all. Better,” he presses a kiss to Jared’s forehead, “if it lasts for years, so you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way, not expecting Ithaca to make you rich. Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.”

There are no more post-its.

Two was all it took to hook Jared.

This is the rest of the poem.

And later on, when the kids stay with their grandmothers and the guys, Jensen will take Jared out to the boardwalk. They’ll have a simple, greasy dinner on the pier and share a boat of garlic fries. Jensen will kiss Jared first and make a wish. Fights will be had over who can eat the most ice cream and who can dance the best DDR game. Hands will be held. As they watch a few street performers, Jared will feel a familiar arm around his waist and settle there, comfortably, with freckled fingers splayed over his middle.

Jared will look over.

He won’t find Ithaca.

Because that’s not the point.

What he finds is the marvelous journey.

“Without her,” Jensen speaks now, kissing Jared’s nose, “you wouldn’t have set out. She has nothing left to give you now. And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you…”

When they come home after their date, the kids will still be up. Hailey will follow Jared into the bathroom. She will make the motion for ups and Jared will scoop her into his arms, give her a squeeze, and sit her on the countertop. Eyes wide, she will watch Jared take the tie out of his hair and shake the ponytail out.

He’ll lean over and hand her a brush.

Three strokes in, Hailey will give him a bear hug. She will murmur and Jared will, right after, hear Jensen’s voice in hers.

“Mommy, you’re so pretty.”

“Wise as you will have become, so full of experience, you’ll have understood by then what these Ithacas mean.”

**Author's Note:**

> ugh that poem. /sniffs/ 
> 
> been a while since i could work a poem in. so glad i could here.
> 
> i should be writing other things, like things that have deadlines, but of course my muse doesn't work that way. sigh. oh well, here's an update anyway!
> 
> please let me know what you think <3


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